The Butterfly Club

by Jacqueline Wilson

  She was only joking, but Alistair shut up quick. I carried on writing word after word until the very last one – finished!

  ‘There, Tina. I’m glad you attempted each and every one. Hand me your workbook and I’ll check them through at lunch time. Now, everyone, let’s turn to arithmetical matters. Multiplication and division!’

  They were two of my spelling words. I thought I knew how to spell them properly now, but I still struggled terribly doing multiplication and division, and I definitely needed Alistair’s help.

  ‘There were some truly awesomely difficult spellings on that list,’ he said. ‘I think I might have struggled with one or two.’

  ‘One or two!’ said Mick. ‘I could hardly do any.’

  ‘How many do you think you got right, Tina?’ Peter asked.

  ‘Bet you hardly got any right – you’re a hopeless speller,’ said Kayleigh nastily.

  Selma said nothing at all. She wouldn’t even look at me. It was as if I didn’t exist any more. I noticed she wasn’t wearing the special bracelet I’d made for her.

  The moment the bell went for lunch she rushed out of the classroom. But we rushed too – Phil and Maddie and me. She was much quicker than me, but Phil nearly caught her up – and Maddie went charging past and cornered her.

  ‘Now listen here, Selma. You’ve got our Tina’s Baby and you’ve jolly well got to give her back!’ said Maddie.

  ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said.

  ‘Yes you do!’ Phil puffed. ‘Tina saw you holding her little china doll.’

  ‘That was my one. I flushed her little dolly down the toilet,’ said Selma.

  ‘It was my Baby, Selma – I saw where I’d crayoned on her. I know she was mine,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, but you also know I threw her away. So make up your mind, stupid Little Bug,’ said Selma, and she suddenly dodged round Maddie and ran for it down the corridor.

  ‘It was Baby, I know it was,’ I said sadly.

  ‘We could go after her and bash her,’ said Maddie.

  ‘No we can’t. You know we can’t hit people – and besides, Selma might hit back even harder,’ said Phil. ‘Oh dear, poor Tina. Still, at least you’ve got New Baby now.’

  ‘And New Baby has real clothes. She’s much more fun to play with,’ said Maddie.

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed. Privately I didn’t think New Baby was a patch on my old Baby, but I couldn’t say that as they’d bought her for me as a special Christmas present. And I didn’t really want to think about any Babies, old or new. I was too worried about the results of my spelling test.

  ‘I’m scared I haven’t got any of the words right,’ I said in a tiny voice.

  ‘Of course you have. I bet you get nearly all of them right,’ said Phil. ‘You did ever so well in our tests.’

  ‘Yes, but Miss Lovejoy muddled up the list. I didn’t know where I was. And I couldn’t sing the spellings out loud – it wasn’t the same doing them inside my head. What if I’ve got them all wrong?’

  ‘You must have got some of them right,’ said Maddie. ‘You’re such a worry-pot, Tina.’

  ‘I just so want to get compost and plants for the butterfly garden,’ I said.

  ‘You’ve already got heaps of money from the cake sale and the Christmas fete. And you know Grandad will give you money even if you don’t get any spellings right,’ said Maddie.

  I was so worried about it that I could hardly eat any of my lunch, even though Mum had put in little red cheeses and a tiny bunch of grapes and a banana sandwich and baby pots of strawberry yoghurt as special going-back-to-school treats.

  Miss Lovejoy had said she’d mark my spellings at lunch time, but when we went back into the classroom for afternoon school she didn’t even mention them! She just got stuck into lessons immediately.

  I could barely concentrate. I wondered about sticking my hand up and asking her outright, but I couldn’t summon the courage. I just sat there miserably, with all the spelling songs jangling around in my head.

  But ten minutes before the bell was due to go for the end of school Miss Lovejoy suddenly clapped her hands. ‘Right, put your books away, children, and sit up straight. I have an announcement to make.’

  We all did as we were told, wondering what was going on.

  ‘Now, I don’t expect you’ve failed to notice that Tina Maynard here is rather keen to establish a butterfly garden at school,’ said Miss Lovejoy.

  There were a few giggles and groans.

  ‘Tina and Selma have worked very hard digging up the patch of earth at the end of the playground,’ she went on.

  I glanced at Selma. Her head was bent. Perhaps she wasn’t even listening.

  ‘They’ve raised a considerable sum of money already. I decided to help Tina by sponsoring her in a spelling test. Tina has always found spelling rather a challenge . . .’

  I bent my head now too. Perhaps I’d done really badly and Miss Lovejoy was about to brandish my workbook with numerous red crosses and the whole class would laugh at me. I longed to be sitting in between Phil and Maddie so they could hold my hands.

  ‘Tina sat the spelling test this morning and now I have marked it. I want you all to guess how many spellings she has got right,’ said Miss Lovejoy.

  ‘None!’ said Kayleigh.

  ‘I’m sure she’s got at least half right, maybe more,’ said Phil.

  ‘She should have got lots and lots right – she worked so hard at it all holiday,’ said Maddie.

  ‘Perhaps she got seventy-five per cent correct?’ suggested Alistair.

  ‘I’m afraid you’re all one hundred per cent wrong,’ said Miss Lovejoy, ‘because Tina has got one hundred per cent of her spellings right!’

  I looked up, a little dazed. I wasn’t totally sure what she meant. She didn’t mean . . . she couldn’t mean . . .

  ‘Yes, Tina! You got every single spelling right, all fifty words!’ she said.

  Everyone gasped and clapped. Phil and Maddie cheered.

  ‘I feel like cheering too,’ said Miss Lovejoy. ‘You’ve done extremely well. I’ve shown your workbook to all the other teachers. They’ve felt inspired to sponsor you too. My handbag is quite weighed down with all their donations. And I am going to keep my word. Fifty correct spellings equals a whole twenty-five pounds!’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I CONFERRED WITH Miss Lovejoy. We decided to spend most of the generously donated money on compost as it was still too early in the year to buy plants. She went to the garden centre straight after school and bought ten big sacks, and then, the next day, parked her car beside the garden so we didn’t have to drag the heavy sacks too far. There was no sign of Selma in the playground. Miss Lovejoy had to get some of the big boys to unload the sacks.

  ‘We’ll start digging in the compost at lunch time,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you soooo much, Miss Lovejoy,’ I said.

  When the bell rang for lunch, Selma rushed off with the others.

  ‘Selma!’ Miss Lovejoy called. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I don’t think she wants to do the garden any more,’ I said, ‘but it’s all right. I’ll do all the digging, I don’t mind.’

  ‘Did you hear that, Selma?’ said Miss Lovejoy. ‘Do you think Tina will manage the digging by herself?’

  Selma shrugged. ‘You’ll help her, miss.’

  ‘Miss Lovejoy. I’ll only be able to dig for a little while. My back’s still playing up and I have to be very cautious. You’re the expert digger, Selma. So strong. Ten times stronger than little Tina here. Don’t you want to help her?’

  ‘She don’t want me to,’ said Selma.

  ‘Don’t be silly, of course she does. And I want you to dig too. So come along.’

  The three of us went out to the garden and started digging the compost in, bag by bag. It was long, slow, heavy, messy work. I had to rest every few minutes so I didn’t get too tired. Selma did most of the digging, getting so hot she had to take off her coat an
d roll up her sleeves.

  Miss Lovejoy said she must have a rest too. ‘Sit down with Tina and you can both eat your packed lunches. It will give you a bit more energy – although you’ve been better than a JCB attacking that earth, Selma! Well done. Now I’m going off to the staff room to have my lunch,’ she said.

  I didn’t want her to go. It was so awkward being with Selma now that we weren’t friends any more. She sat at one end of the garden eating her bag of crisps. I sat at the other nibbling on my egg-and-tomato sandwich. We didn’t look at each other.

  I had to see whether Selma was talking to me at all.

  ‘Do you like egg-and-tomato sandwiches?’ I asked.

  She went on munching crisps and didn’t reply for several seconds. ‘Not much,’ she said eventually.

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘It’s just that I can’t eat all mine.’

  Selma peered over at my open lunch box. She saw a purple wrapper. ‘I do like chocolate though,’ she said.

  Mum had put the chocolate bar in my lunch box as a special treat. She rarely let us have chocolate.

  ‘Would you like half of my bar?’ I asked, after an inner struggle.

  ‘Yes!’ Selma came over and sat beside me.

  I broke the bar in half and we ate our pieces of chocolate together. In silence, still not looking at each other. Then Selma mumbled something.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said thanks,’ she repeated.

  ‘Oh. That’s fine. You’re sure you don’t want half a sandwich too?’

  ‘Well, if you don’t want it, then OK.’

  Selma steadily ate her way through the rest of my lunch. Then she mumbled thanks again.

  ‘I should be thanking you for doing all that digging. You’ve got ever so dirty,’ I said, looking at the earth splattered all over Selma’s socks and shoes.

  She shrugged again. ‘They weren’t clean on anyway,’ she said.

  We sat in silence.

  ‘Well. Better get on with this mucky old compost,’ said Selma. ‘Still, at least I’m good at something.’

  I thought of her life at home, where she was always the bad girl, no matter what she did. I thought of her lying on her bed, crying.

  ‘Yes. Selma . . . about Baby . . .’ I said.

  Selma scowled. ‘I don’t know what you mean. I haven’t got her,’ she said in a rush.

  ‘Maybe I made a mistake. But – but if you did happen to have her, then it’s all right. I’ve got a new Baby now. Phil and Maddie gave her to me for Christmas. So we could have a Baby each, see?’ I said.

  Selma scowled even more. Then I saw why. Her eyes were brimming with tears. She was struggling not to cry. I reached out and took hold of her hand. I squeezed it tightly and she squeezed mine back.

  We didn’t say any more. We didn’t need to. We were friends again.

  Phil and Maddie were quite irritated with me when they realized this.

  ‘Honestly, Tina, why do you want to stay friends with her when she’s been so mean to you?’ asked Phil when we were going to bed. ‘She wasn’t even talking to you earlier.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but I think it was just because she was a bit sad and embarrassed,’ I said.

  ‘No wonder! She stole your Baby and let you think she was lost for ever!’ said Maddie.

  ‘Yes, I know, but maybe she needs Baby more than me. She hasn’t got any nice dolls. Her little brother spoils them all.’

  ‘I’d spoil them all if I had Selma as a big sister!’ said Maddie. ‘You’re nuts wanting such a mean girl to stay friends with you.’

  ‘It’s because Tina’s never made any friends of her own before,’ said Phil. ‘She’s prepared to put up with anything even though it’s silly.’

  ‘It’s not a bit silly!’ I said, flaring up. ‘I like Selma. And she still likes me, so you two can just shut up.’

  ‘You’re getting mean too,’ said Maddie. ‘Selma’s meanness is rubbing off on you!’

  I pushed her.

  ‘Don’t, Tina!’ said Phil.

  ‘There! She’s trying to beat me up now, just like Selma!’ said Maddie.

  ‘No, this is beating you up!’ I started mock-punching her.

  ‘And this is a real fight!’ said Maddie, play-punching back.

  ‘And this is a wrestle!’ said Phil, grabbing hold of both of us.

  We ended up rolling on the floor in a great tangle, shrieking with laughter.

  ‘Hey, hey, what’s going on, girls?’ Mum and Dad came running into the room.

  ‘Phil, Maddie, get off your sister this minute!’ Mum shouted. ‘You know perfectly well that Tina mustn’t romp about like that!’

  ‘Tina started it, Mum! And we’re not really fighting.’ Phil struggled to her feet.

  ‘Tina’s been beating both of us up!’ Maddie spluttered.

  ‘Now stop being silly, all of you. Tina, are you all right?’ Mum hauled me up and peered at me anxiously.

  ‘Of course she’s all right,’ said Dad. ‘How do you spell right, Champion Speller?’

  ‘R-i-g-h-t!’ I sang.

  ‘Good girl! Even though you’ve cost us all a fortune,’ said Dad. ‘So when are you going to buy all these plants then?’

  ‘Miss Lovejoy says it’s a bit too early still. We’ve got to wait till it gets warmer. Then she’s going to take Selma and me to a garden centre.’

  ‘My, she’s certainly going the extra mile for you girls.’

  ‘Tina and Selma are her favourites,’ said Phil.

  ‘She lets them get away with murder,’ said Maddie.

  ‘No she doesn’t. She’s still strict with us and bosses us about. But I think she does like us,’ I said.

  ‘No wonder,’ said Dad.

  ‘Is Tina your favourite, Dad?’ Maddie asked.

  ‘I think she’s Mum’s favourite,’ said Phil.

  ‘What nonsense!’ said Mum and Dad together, laughing.

  ‘You’re all three our favourites,’ said Dad, giving us all a big hug.

  ‘Favourite girls in all the world – so long as you hop into bed this minute and fall fast asleep,’ said Mum.

  I had a new way of getting myself to sleep now. Inside my head I made lists of all the plants that butterflies liked. I knew that I needed a buddleia – maybe two or even three, because my butterfly book said that butterflies needed mass planting. There were different kinds of buddleia, and they came in many different colours too – purples and blues and pinks and white.

  I needed spring flowers – primulas and aubretia and bugle. Summer flowers like sweet william and lavender and red valerian and asters.

  I needed autumn flowers like Michaelmas daisies.

  I also needed dandelions and nettles, but Selma said she’d dig some up from the grounds of her estate for nothing. And I could do with some rotten fruit too – but perhaps I could simply chuck a few old apples and oranges around the garden for the butterflies to snack on. I didn’t have time to grow fruit trees.

  I turned my butterfly plant list into a little song.

  Butterflies, butterflies

  Come eat my buddleia

  Purple and blue and white

  Pink that’s very bright

  Primula, aubretia, bugle too

  Asters and lavender’s blue

  Sweet william and valerian red

  Remember all the plants I’ve said

  And Michaelmas daisies

  Sing their praises.

  In March Miss Lovejoy took Selma and me to buy the plants at the garden centre. She had all our money in a big purse. We went in the school minibus after lessons finished. She promised our mums she’d drive us home afterwards.

  I sang my list of plants, and Miss Lovejoy steered us to all the right sections and we found nearly everything – though they said we’d have to come back later in the year for the Michaelmas daisies. We piled all our plants up in a great big trolley.

  ‘Let me push it, Miss Lovejoy, or you’ll do your back in again,’ said Selma.
/>   ‘You’re such a helpful girl, Selma,’ said Miss Lovejoy.

  Selma beamed at her.

  It was a bit scary spending our money in one go. Such a lot of money.

  ‘If we’d had more time we could have grown a lot of the plants from seed, but it took such ages to get the earth ready,’ I said.

  ‘I think you two did a great job,’ said Miss Lovejoy. ‘All that digging did you both a lot of good.’

  ‘We’d never have become friends otherwise,’ I said.

  ‘That’s very true,’ she agreed. ‘Now, let’s get all these plants safely into the minibus, which is going to be a job and a half. Then I reckon we all deserve a cup of tea in the garden centre café.’

  She didn’t just mean a cup of tea. She let Selma and me choose any cake we wanted too. This took quite a time because there were great big gateaux with whirly cream and cherries on top, and huge golden slices of jam sponge cake, and enormous slabs of chocolate cake with frosting, not to mention scones and brownies and cookies the size of plates.

  In the end, after much deliberation, we had twin slices of gateau, the last two on the plate.

  ‘Phil and Maddie and I nearly always choose the same cake. Good job it’s just us two today,’ I said to Selma.

  ‘Bet you can’t eat all that cake, though. You’ve got such a titchy appetite,’ said Selma.

  ‘You watch me,’ I said. I ate it all up, every crumb, every dab of whirly cream, every cherry.

  Miss Lovejoy just nibbled on a boring old scone. She didn’t even have jam and cream, just butter.

  ‘You didn’t want a slice of the gateau too, did you, Miss Lovejoy?’ I asked, suddenly worried.

  ‘No, dear, I’m very much a scone person.’ Miss Lovejoy smiled. ‘Plain and no nonsense and old-fashioned.’

  ‘I think you’re really lovely,’ I said shyly. ‘You’ve been sooooo kind. Hasn’t she, Selma?’

  ‘Yeah, you’ve been great, miss,’ said Selma.

  ‘Miss Lovejoy,’ said Miss Lovejoy, but she was still smiling.